Waiting for the Wonder
by Helen Danielle
Summary: Alice is confused. The ship has yet to depart, her hair has curiously disappeared, and the walls are far too white. She promised she'd be back before he knew it, but he knows it all too well. The Hatter must ascend and rescue The Alice from the society which condemned her for her madness. All the best people are mad, it's true, but their madness does not keep them safe.
1. Waiting for the Wonder

"What is the use of a book without pictures or conversation?"

"Pardon me, Alice? What did you say?"

"Oh! I was just remembering something from my childhood. Reading and rabbits in waistcoats, you know. Dreary childhood, indeed."

The voluminous nurse placed a clammy hand on my face. Would that she had the time! I couldn't help but feel as though I were running very late. She seemed to gather her nerve from touching my head, for she quickly withdrew and used her other claw to snatch away my book.

"I think that's enough exertion for you, Miss Kingsleigh. Time for an afternoon nap, and then you're off to help Mary in the kitchens with supper." She fluttered those damnable hands in my face, as if to convince me of the rightness of her orders.

"Oh, I can't be bothered with napping and cooking now! I'll be late for the ship's departure. It's called the Wonder, you know, after the land?"

Where was my trunk? How had I let the day slip away so quickly from me? Who was this nurse concerning herself with my departure-day itinerary? 

Her face fell a little. Her cheeks looked like a twin pair of oysters clung to her face. The image sparked a giggle in my stomach that couldn't be contained.

"Miss Kingsleigh, I don't know about any boats leaving from Rutledge today."

"Rutledge? What the devil is a Rutledge? Where is my mother, she'll put this to rights. Where is my mother, you loathsome oyster?"

The laughing had spoiled in my chest, rotted away leaving a rage burning bright orange. It hurt to breathe out the flames, but I simply had to get to the ship on time. The nurse deflated even more. What at first appeared as oysters in her cheeks now resembled a hound kicked by its master. Was I her master? Where had the oysters gone?

"Alice, my dear, I think it would be best if you lie down for a moment. You don't want to upset yourself before dinner, do you?"

I reached up to push my bangs from my face, but felt only bald forehead and curiously fuzzy scalp.

"Pardon me, Miss Nurse, but could you tell me where my hair has gone?"

It seemed best to ask politely when one has lost one's hair, after all. Even if the hounded nurse has refused to tell me when the ship was to disembark.

She paused again, deflated again. I wondered if she would completely sag away to an empty husk and leave me be. Maybe then she could direct me to my mother.

"Miss Kingsleigh, why don't you wait just one moment. I'll go ask the ship's captain when he will be ready to depart. Is that quite alright, Alice?"

Finally we were getting somewhere! Finally that rabbit would run and run, leading me to the Wonder. Or was it the land that I was looking for? Nevermind, the captain would clarify everything, I was sure of it.

"Very well, Miss Nurse. Perhaps you could ask the captain about my hair as well?"

She backed from the room slowly. It was so very white in there, blindingly white. White like rabbits, or maybe chess pieces.

"Of course, Alice. I'll send the captain right in."

A heavy door slammed shut after she exited. I hoped she would hurry, I hated to feel late for anything.


	2. Tea Time With Alice

**Hello dear Readers! I do not own any part of Alice in Wonderland, nor do I lay claim to any of the associated movies or video games. I'm merely here for tea.**

**My Alice is based heavily on American McGee's Alice. I find the darker interpretation more appealing. This story will draw heavily from its elements and from my own research regarding treatment of schizophrenic patients in Victorian London. My impression of Alice as mentally unstable should not be looked to as an accurate portrayal of schizophrenia. Much of her character development will depend on artistic license rather than strict fact.**

Now that all the ends are nicely tied up, everybody move down and we can begin!

AAA

"May I have some wine?"

The nurse was poking me in the arm, something sharp and cold.

"Wine, Miss Kingsleigh? What are you thinking of? We have no wine at Rutledge!"

"Well, then, it wasn't very civil of you to offer it!"

How rude. How very rude. The sharp something in my arm was gone, but a trickle of red blood wept from the wound. Red. Red blood, like tarts in a far-away castle.

"That should do it, Pris. I can't imagine she'll be able to sustain any more insulin this morning. When she loses consciousness, ring for Mary to bring in the tea. That should do the trick."

Wilson, the great Walrus himself, the liar who called himself a captain, spoke as if I weren't even in the room! Such terrible manners that man had, terrible manners and terrible tea! I was sure I could think of all the horrid things Wilson had been doing to me if only I wasn't so very sleepy.

There wasn't a calendar on my wall, but I'm sure the one that wasn't there was two days wrong. Why had that occurred to me?

AAA

I awoke to the humid smell of sugared tea. How much time had passed? Was it the same year?

"Miss Kingsleigh? How are you feeling?"

"Does your watch tell you what year it is, Nurse Witless? I would very much like to know the year."

"Watch, Miss Kingsleigh? I don't have a watch. As for the year, such details are not for you to be concerned with at present. All you need do, Alice, is start feeling better."

Feeling better? But I felt fine. My hair didn't even want cutting.

"How is Alice feeling this afternoon?"

Doctor Wilson the Walrus was back again. He always acted so surprised to see me, as if he weren't the liar who stole me away from the Wonder. Or was it the Under, I couldn't recall.

"Was it the Under or the Wonder, Doctor Wilson?"

Best to go straight to the source. He sighed, a blowing sort of breeze that lifted the two ends of his moustache.

"Neither, Alice. It was neither. Let's begin our therapy for this afternoon. Pris? Thank you for your assistance today, you may go." The Duchess (or was it The Nurse) left the room, sighing and swaying her enormous hips.

It was then that I noticed the straps binding me to the bed. Rude indeed.

AAA

"It's been too long."

"No it hasn't!"

"If it had been, it would be."

"Contrariwise, if it hadn't been, it wouldn't be."

Mally sat at the tea table with the Tweedle twins and Bayard. She stomped over the frilled tablecloth with furied purpose. She may have disliked The Alice, may even have stuck her, but the way Tarrant was carrying on meant that The Alice had to come back.

Mally yawned, and Bayard spoke.

"We have to ask the White Queen to find The Alice in the Looking Glass. The Queen will know how to best approach this problem."

The Tweedle twins agreed, Dee nodding and Dum shaking his head.

"This problem and the Hatter problem too. Both want fixing."

Mally stopped pacing, stabbing her hat pin into the wooden table. From her vantage point near the teapot, she could see the spires of Marmoreal peeking over the treetops. Mally fancied she could hear the Hatter screaming on the breeze. Yes, both problems wanted fixing, and soon.

"Then let's go to Marmoreal and see the Queen."


	3. A Rest From Corsets

**All of Dr. Wilson's case notes are quoted from American McGee's Alice. I do not own the game, the movies, or the books. If you are enjoying the story, or if you see something you'd like to critique, please leave a review. The only way I can grow as a writer is if you lovely readers let me know what you think! **

TWO YEARS EARLIER

"Received confirmation from the Superintendent that I will be given the opportunity to treat a very troubled and difficult patient. Dubious honour! Her name is Alice, and her prognosis is not promising."

The plaque on the office door read:

Doctor of Psychiatry

Heironymous Q. Wilson

Sanitatem, salutem, solemnitatem

The pen scratched against the thick paper, the faintest scream in the otherwise silent room. Wilson reclined in the leather high-back, writing in his case journal. The new patient, Alice, was safely put away in her room. It was the time in the afternoon when all the patients were either drugged or restrained, and one could almost block out the screaming. Wilson thought that three o' clock in an asylum was exactly what Brighton might be like during the winter.

Heironymous Q. Wilson had never been to Brighton.

Alice's admittance papers were strewn about on his desk, like wrapping paper forgotten after Christmas morning. It was her case file, new and thin, that had captured Wilson so intensely. Looking at its crisp newness brought to mind Mr. Manchester, that off-putting young cad who had first brought Alice to the attention of the Board at Rutledge.

AAA

"We can't allow Alice to set off on this harebrained adventure! You've seen her dress, you've heard her ravings! She's a danger to herself, that she is."

"Lowell, I can't have my baby sister committed. I do admit, she has been rather more peculiar of late, especially after that disaster with the Ascot's. She's just adjusting."

"Adjusting to what, Margaret?"

"To herself, I would imagine."

"Nonsense. She's nearly twenty years old. Your mother agrees with me, I know it. Alice needs help, Margaret. I've spoken to a man in London about-"

"About Alice? What sort of man do you mean?"

"A doctor, at a hospital for people like Alice."

"What sort of people do you mean, Lowell?"

"No need to get upset, my love. I mean, people who need a rest. A break from the stress of the everyday."

"You think Alice needs a rest?"

"I sincerely do. And this man, a doctor of psychiatry, he recommended that we have Alice committed straight away. For her own good, you know. Perhaps if she has her rest, she'll feel better in a few months."

"In time for Christmas, do you think, Lowell?"

"Absolutely in time for Christmas."

AAA

"Mother, why can't you just believe me when I tell you that I'm fine?"

Mother wore a black veil. Her grief seemed suddenly cloying, like the smell of rotting flowers after a funeral. I hated how her grief smelled.

"Alice, you denied Hamish. You denied him and then marched his father into his study for a business meeting. You must understand how all of this looks. Everybody was there. Think of me, and Margaret."

Rotting flowers gave way to burning flesh. I looked in the mirror across the parlor, half believing I would see the gore of a Jabberwock on my dress.

"Mother, I can't expect you to understand. All I ask is that you give me room to breathe. You're behaving like this cursed corset. Let me draw a breath."

She sighed at me. Blood dripping from the Vorpal Blade. Squidberry tarts with tea. Hookah smoke filling a room made of mushrooms and flowers.

"Lowell thinks it might be a good idea for you to take a rest in London. He spoke to a very prominent doctor who suggested that you take a rest for a few months. I think that would be a good opportunity for you to take that breath you say you need."

Mother began to cry, weeping noisily under that damned veil. I clenched my fists, but found no blade. Only laced gloves wrinkling a stiff new dress.

"What kind of a doctor? What kind of a rest? You can't possibly mean-"

"Rutledge, dear girl. I think you need to have a stay at Rutledge. Lowell and Margaret agree. They're making a special trip to take you to London today. I've had Mary pack you a trunk full of the books you love so much, and not a single corset. It will only be for a month or two, just until you're feeling like yourself again."

"Are you mad, Mother? I'm not insane, Rutledge is for the insane. You all want to lock me away, to keep me from having adventures. You're all mad, not me!"

I stood, the corset digging into my chest like bandersnatch claws. Out of the corner of one eye, I saw a carriage rolling up the drive. No doubt containing my Judas sister and her philandering husband. I saw his eyes in the window, glinting and grinning like a cat I once knew. And then I saw nothing at all.


	4. Our Dear Friend's Been Murdered

**Here is the fourth installment of the story, "Waiting for the Wonder." I own none of the characters. Please enjoy the following chapter, and leave a review if you have a moment. I would greatly appreciate the feedback!**

The Mad Hatter sat at the long table in his workroom, worrying a thimble between his hands. Blood was beginning to seep through dirty bandages on the tips of most of his fingers, but he seemed removed from the pinpricking pain.

"Stamp out the beat, beat out the time. Drain down your tea and move down the line...have I made a rhyme?"

Tarrant giggled manically to himself before throwing the thimble at a bolt of purple fabric resting haphazardly against a table leg.

The open window-pane let in a warm breeze that whispered through the Hatter's limp and fading hair. Tarrant turned his eyes towards the window. He could make out the faint shape of the Queen playing croquet on the lawn below, could see the pale outlines of her sycophantic courtiers, could hear her softly instructing them to address the trees politely.

Were they red or white clothes, the raiments of a dead court or a living one? Were those balls on the ground or decapitated heads? Blood or wine?

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" It seemed to Tarrant that the riddle encapsulated all of his earthly concerns. If only Alice-

"Alice. The Alice. Back before you know it." Cool hands on his cheeks. Insistence that he was merely a dream. Slaying.

Rage bubbled up in his chest like water left to boil too long. Tarrant's eyes blurred and saw only red, the red of abandonment.

"Time for tea, little bat!" He threw himself from his chair, nearly toppling the unsteady pile of materials from the table. Tarrant ran to the window and sat at the small dining table below it.

Buttered watches. Empty teacups. Move down, move down, MOVE DOWN!

Tarrant frantically poured tea into a chipped cup and drank it down in one gulp. It burned, seared his throat going down, but he was unaware. As quickly as he sat in the chair, he was back up again. On to the next seat.

Mirana and her court laughed at some duke's humorous remark, and the laughter floated in through Tarrant's open window. He didn't even hear the sound, so consumed was he in the unceasing tea-time ritual.

"Hatta?" A visitor.

"You're late for tea!" The now-empty second cup of tea was slung towards Mally, hesitantly waiting in the threshold of the workroom.

"Can I come in and have tea with you, Tarrant?" No response save for yet another change in seating. Mally strode across the floor, sword hanging from her mousy hip, and hopped up onto the dining table.

"Have you been making many hats lately?" She felt it best to approach her old friend with caution with eyes as red as his.

"Hats? No hats. Only time for tea these days. Our dear friend's been murdered, he's clearly quite dead. It's Tea Time forever, that's what Red Queen said. Have I made a rhyme?"

He was worse than Mally had expected, her tiny stomach filling with anxiety. How was she to offer aid if his mind was cast on events from so long ago?

"She did say so, it's true. 'Twinkle twinkle, little bat' and all that. But Hatter, that was a very long time ago. Iracebeth's been banished, with the Knave."

"Banished, bullied, beheaded!"

Mally braced her nerves for what she had come to Tarrant to say. It was unlikely that he would respond to her words, but she had made the long trip to Marmoreal for something. She couldn't quail now, not so close to the completion of the matter.

"Tarrant, it's time for you to move on. Time will forgive you, if you would only stop trying to kill Him so much. The Alice isn't coming back, Hatter. You have to forget about her."

Tarrant heard Mally's words and felt a cold poison work its way through his veins. Lucidity prevailed for a moment, and his eyes went to a sickeningly yellow hue.

"Mally, Alice promised me that she would be back before I knew it. She promised, Mally. And even though she's dreadfully late, I will continue to wait for the Champion."

"She isn't coming back, Tarrant. She ISN'T! What kind of a Champion abandons her Hatter at the first opportunity? Maybe she never was the Champion, not at all!" Mally's small body was filling with rage at the girl, rage for reducing her oldest friend to this muttering ruin before her.

"Speak n'more, Dormouse. Silence yer mout' afore I shut it for ye!"

Tarrant shot up from the table and threw his chair across the room. It landed, clattering and splintered, a few feet from the mountainous table. Mally took a step back, making sure to stab her hatpin into the table in case Tarrant got the idea to throw her as well. She opened her mouth for the rebuttal, but closed it once more when Tarrant collapsed to the floor. He was sobbing into his bleeding, bandaged hands.

"Oh Mally. Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

Her heart softened, and she replied kindly.

"Hatter, I couldn't tell you even if I knew. It's not my riddle."

"It's HER'S. But she won't come back to answer it for me."

"No, she won't. But Tarrant, there are other riddles than this. Other friends to ask and answer."

"But only one Champion."

"Only one, that's true. And not even one lately."

AAA

I regained consciousness in a small white office. The same rage and betrayal that had forced me into a faint came screaming back into my mind, and I tried to rise up from the angular chair where I found myself seated.

Arm straps.

"Mother? Margaret? Lowell, damn you. Where am I? Let me out of here!" Not a single answer. I might as well have been strapped to a chair inside a teapot, for all the good shouting seemed to do me. The white door opened, and Margaret walked in with a man in a white doctor's coat. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, and she held a ratty old rabbit doll in her hands.

"Margaret, what is going on? Why are you doing this? Mother is wrong, I'm fine. Please don't do this." I was begging, weeping and begging. The mustachioed doctor smiled a faint smile, sinister and foreboding.

"Miss Kingsleigh, calm yourself. Your sister is here to say good-bye, and then you and I can get to know each other a little better before you're taken to your temporary residence here at Rutledge."

Rutledge. Mother hadn't been lying.

"Alice, I...I'm sorry. I brought you your old rabbit doll, I can't remember what you used to call him. I thought he might bring you some comfort while you're getting accustomed to your new surroundings. Lowell says you'll be feeling better by Christmas, and we can forget all about this place. We'll go ice skating in the Ascot's pond and drink spiced cider by the fireplace, like we used to do when we were children. But good-bye for now, Alice. I love you."

She delivered this speech like one who has been practicing in the mirror. After it all had been said, she drew a shaky breath and placed the rabbit doll on my lap. A rattling sob burst from her mouth, and she walked back through the white door.

I was speechless with rage. Shaking. Off with her head, off with Margaret's head.

"Now, Alice. I'm Doctor Wilson, and you and I are going to become great friends."


	5. Bread-and-Butter

"Bread-and-butter. Bread-and-butter."

Mirana spun around her private chambers, arms flapping like a great white bird. The words kept bubbling up from some bread-and-buttered place in her chest like a dinner party gone utterly off its head. They seemed the only phrase that prevented Mirana from dissolving into sheep-like terror over the inevitable prospect of a pricked finger from a rather aggressive shawl pin.

"It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards," Mirana regally commented to herself. She had halted in front of the vanity mirror and presently examined her state of dress.

"Oh, why don't I have a lady's maid?" She began to sniffle.

Knock knock knock!

"Are you my lady's maid?" Mirana was suddenly suspicious that her backwards-running memory had done something to result in the unwelcome knocking at the door.

"No, Your Majesty. It's Mallymkun. It's...well, it's about Tarrant, Your Majesty."

No lady's maid, then. Where was little Alice when Mirana needed her?

"Come in, Mally. Although you may need to help me with my shawl."

The door opened and Mally walked in, her stride full of anxiety.

"Help you with your shawl, Majesty? I'm sure I'm much too small to be of any great service in the dressing department. Even Tarrant won't let me do more than hand him a new pin or thimble once in a while and...well, he won't touch a hat at all these days."

Mirana shook off the sudden urge to bleat like a lamb and sat at her desk.

"It does seem rather a pity that Tarrant won't hat for me anymore. If only he were better! If only my Champion would return and help me with this shawl!" Mirana's sniffles grew into a cry as she realized the pricking of her finger was soon to happen. "Oh Mally, can you hand me that pin from the floor by my mirror? I'm just about to put on my shawl, and my finger needs pricking."

Pin in hand, blood on fingers, shawl wrapped tightly around white shoulders. All better.

"Are you sure you're alright, Your Majesty? I can come back another time, if you like."

"I'm quite fine. I've had done with all the screaming already, don't you see? Now, tell me about your Tarrant-worries and I'll see if there is anything I can do for you."

"It's The Alice's fault, Your Majesty. She promised to back before he knew it but, well, he knows it. He knows it and it's driving him madder." 

"What do you propose we do, Mallymkun?" 

"I think we should use the Looking Glass. You know, the one from before, and go and fetch Alice back for Tarrant. Before he loses the last of his marbles." 

Mirana's heart sank into the knotted wool lining of her stomach. She knew it would come to the Looking Glass eventually. It had seemed too convenient, even to her. Her mind cast back to that embarrassing meeting with Alice, the one that ended with Mirana as a sheep-keeper. Or was it a shop-keeper? She couldn't remember. Blasted backwards memory.

"Oh my dear, Mally. The Looking Glass...it simply won't work like that. When Alice came through the other time, she came through. It wasn't us that drew her in. The Looking Glass doesn't work that way. Only Alice can operate the mirror, from Above." 

Mally grew silent, her tiny body swelling with an unanswerable rage toward that selfish Alice. Tail shaking, she pressed on.

"Is there some way we can...push her through? Nivens could find her and convince her to come back. She can't have gone far." 

Mirana considered this new option. Nivens would likely quiver with fear at the thought of returning to, once again, find The Alice. But if, if if if, he could be convinced of his duty to Tarrant...

"Bread-and-butter, Mally, this plan of yours just might work!"

CLASH! BANG! THUD!

"Her Majesty is busy with a private audience! I will see you in chains for this!" The door-guard yelped from the floor as Tarrant, red with a murderous rage, stepped over his upended foe. Mirana froze like an alabaster statue while Mally drew her hatpin.

Eyes so red they could stab through a heart.

"Hoo daur ye discuss a rescue mission fur Th' Alice withit me. Hoo daur ye discuss me withit me. Thaur will be nae gonnae abune withit me. If Alice needs anyain tae push 'er ben 'at mirrur, it shoods be me." Tarrant panted heavily after so many words, and sat down on the floor.

Eyes bleeding red into yellow like a sad sunrise.

"I want to go. Please let me go. I will find her and push her through."

Mirana sighed.

"Tarrant, you're mad. You can't just waltz up to the Above without any sense."

"Precisely. I would walk, not waltz, Your Majesty. As for sense, I've plenty to spare."

Mally walked over to where the Queen sat at her desk and pulled on her gown hem.

"I'll volunteer my hatpin for this mission. Perhaps Nivens would be better served at court than on a rescue mission."

"But Mally, I thought you disliked... I mean, what do you mean?"

"My feelings for The Alice aside, I can't let Tarrant wander through Above London without any protection."

Tarrant smiled from the floor and shook his head.

"This is a mission I must master myself. The letter M seems most appropriate for this morning."

Mally glared at Tarrant.

"You're not helping, you great loon."

Mirana rose from her seat and smoothed her gown.

"Let's gather our old friends. The Tweedles, Nivens, Bayard, even Bandy. We'll set a conference to be held over tea this afternoon. There will we discuss the recue of our Champion. Now go, you both, so that I may finish dressing."

Tarrant and Mally softly closed the door behind them, and Mirana could hear the door-guard still grumbling about Tarrant's punishment in the hall. She would have to give him another raise, what with her friends always disturbing him.

"Now, where was I?" Mirana spoke aloud to her mirror. "Ah yes."

She began to spin in circles once again, this time her mind clouded and heavy with worry for Tarrant and a strange emotion like anger towards her Champion, her un-lady's maid.

"Bread-and-butter. Bread-and-butter. Bread-and-butter."


	6. Houndsditch

**Thank you for continuing to read my little story! If you have a moment, please leave me a review, I'd really like to know what everyone thinks of what I've written thus far. Reviews keep the creative juices (and the tea) flowing!**

"We've no room, no beds, Doctor Wilson. Even if I wanted another case, I simply could not accomodate her."

"She's perfect for your program, Bumby. You'll absolutely be fascinated by her particular madness. A whole world she's dreamed up, all in her head."

"Yes, yes, I've read your case file on the girl. It is intriguing, I will grant you that."

"So you'll take her then?"

"...I'll see if I can make an opening at Houndsditch for your little pet project. But Wilson?"

"Yes, old boy?"

"Consider us even after this."

"Very well, Bumby. Very well."

AAA

Angus Bumby walked the short way from Rutledge to his residence at the Houndsditch Home for Wayward Youth. He felt a moment of pride over the clever name he had invented for his business, remembering the evening spent in his cups when it came to him. He had been an undergraduate then, drinking away his sorrows over that tease. Lizzie. He had downed the bottle of scotch and then taught her not to play coy with Angus Bumby.

He wondered if they ever found her body after the fire.

AAA

"Well, Alice, It would appear that your rehabilitation at Rutledge is complete."

"Rehabilitation? Quite. Yes." The room was spinning. Two male nurses, Tweedles of men, unshackled me from the bed.

Shackles and chains, they all cause me pain.

"You will be transferred to the Houndsditch Home for Wayward Youth today, Alice. This is a great opportunity for you, I will expect you not to squander it."

Houndsditch? Houndsditch doesn't sound like home.

"Why am I being sent there? Why can't I go home?"

Margaret's damned rabbit doll sat sadly in the corner of the room, its button eyes sagging from their own weight. If rabbits could cry, this one surely would.

"Alice, you're still very sick. You can't burden your poor mother with your shattered mind. Doctor Bumby will ensure that you pick up the rest of the pieces, and that you learn your place in society. It will be a beneficial instruction for you, Alice."

My place? Champion, lady's maid, Bearer of the Vorpal Blade.

"I want to see my mother!"

"Now, now Alice. Don't struggle or Jones and Hadley will have to restrain you again."

"You mean Dum and Dee?"

"You see, Alice? Shattered, simply shattered. We're getting off track. You're to pack your things and be ready to depart in an hour."

Slammed doors, darkened room. I sit silent in the gloom.

Rhymes make time go by quicker. Even if the doctor thinks they make me sicker.

Stop rocking, Alice. A body can get used to anything. Bald heads, cell doors, barbaric treaments. Rehabilitation, Wilson called it. In the pale and fleeting moment of lucidity, I know that this Houndsditch will never lead me home to Mother. It will lead me to an unwanted life of drudgery Above, when all I wish for is to be Under.


End file.
